


so, my darling

by BabaTunji



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Fpreg, Impregnation, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji
Summary: The fairy queen and her human bride take things to the next level.
Relationships: Fairy Queen impregnates Her Human Princess Bride, Fairy Queen/Human Princess Bride
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42
Collections: Unusual_Bearings_2020





	so, my darling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xSachaelx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSachaelx/gifts).



> bless the goddess AgentMal for saving me  
> A mood setting playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaLyITkqlEbpymsBvJJKSPJ9oH4ivEJj6”  
> Reference for the feeling of this fic is https://www.1st-art-gallery.com/frame-preview/21055796.jpg?sku=Unframed&thumb=0&huge=1 this painting by Maxfield Parrish, and reference for Beauty is https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/421034021020106753/701265815583981619/tumblr_pou3pbj4UO1xrfrddo4_1280.png this lovely person.

playlist   
Reference for the feeling of this fic is this painting by Maxfield Parrish, and reference for Beauty is this lovely person.

  
  
-:-

  
“Please,” said Beauty, “I’m ready.”

Tatianna was ageless, eternal. She held the wisdom of all the human aeons she had seen, and also retained the childlike wonder of youth. She was peer to child and peer to crone. Still, it had not felt quite right when her young ward, a mortal princess she had claimed in the human realm and raised from infancy, started to look to her with adoration not entirely chaste. 

It was one thing to drop into the mortal plain and bed one who caught her eye of any age - they were all children to her - but it felt different when the mortal in question was one she had raised entirely herself. Now, while long since an adult in mortal reckoning, Beauty still felt a tender youngling to Tatianna. 

But Beauty had persisted. She asserted herself, her self knowledge, her experience of the world beyond the first years she was confined to Queen Tatianna’s keeping. She was shameless in expressing her interest, and relentless in vying for the Queen’s. Beauty persisted, and Tatianna weakened. 

Beauty was not simply beautiful to behold, fresh as spring, fine as gold. Beauty was so named for the nature of her spirit, which all fairies could see shining within her. Indeed, while not unordinary as an infant, as Beauty grew the quality of her spirit became known more fully as her personality developed and exerted itself. And her nature, pressaged by the glittering of her spirit to fae vision, then manifested in her bearing and actions, proved exceptional in Tatianna’s court. Some came to call her Gilda, for having a nature as fine and warm as hewn gold. 

Tatianna made no commands against using the epithet, but never did herself. Beauty was like gold in many ways, not the least in how precious she was to Tatianna, but she was not soft like gold, not in spirit. Beauty held a particular resilience and self possession rarely encountered in mortals. It was with these attributes she continued her suit of the Fairy Queen. 

Tatianna rebuffed her dear one, declaiming that she had not raised Beauty to cleave to her, but to make her own way, to be independent and self-deciding, to choose for herself, immune to all guile, fairy or human. Beauty replied so it was, and now it was for the Queen to respect her choice.

Finally, after a self denial that had lasted years, after Tatianna had sent her Beauty off into the world on a quest designed to ensnare her in the love of another, a mortal, only for Beauty to come back more resolved to her feelings than even before, finally Tatianna had allowed Beauty to come to her bed. Once, and then never again. That’s what she had told herself.

Their union was a revelation. As Queen of the fairies Tatianna had often orchestrated two mortals to be destined for each other, or divined that mortals were already fated to be together. Never had she thought she was vulnerable to such a fate. Never, until the night she tasted Beauty’s wet passion on her tongue, felt those thighs shake against her head, heard Beauty’s cry in ecstasy, never had she thought that kind of love would be a thread in her tapestry. That night the wise Queen learned there was wisdom still to gain as she discovered this was not just a thread of her tapestry, it was the weft upon which it was woven. Tasting it once, Tatianna soon came to require it again.

“Are you,” said Tatiana. 

This, however, was another matter. 

The cycle of fairy fertility being analogous to the length of their natural lives, rare was the time when it became an issue for the Fairy Queen. But though the fae generally prized the rare times they were able to sire or bear children, and took every opportunity to grow their uncommon species, Tatianna was, this time, uncertain.

“The aligning of our cycles may never happen again in my lifetime. I want to bear your child. Please.”

“Stating the urgency of the moment is not the same as making a case for your readiness. In fact, it might appear to be hedging against it.”

“By what criteria do you merit readiness for such an enterprise? My commitment? My faith in us? It has been 7 years since I last returned from the world of man, 5 since we were wed. I have longed to have a child and I trust in our home and house together, to raise it. I know I will be a good parent, for I feel the call in my being, and I know you will be because,” and here her face heated, “because I have seen it firsthand.”

Tatianna made as if to speak and Beauty continued first, “And I have met your fae children, far older than me, and know your parental quality again from their character.”

Tatianna remained silent for a moment, then said softly, “But the tribulation for your body…”

Beauty smiled, fearless. “I know you will not let me come to harm, to die, and there is nothing else in this I fear besides protecting that which I seek to bear.”

It had been centuries since she had last entered parenthood for a child of her own, and just as she had enjoyed it then, she desired it now. And just as she loved Beauty with all her heart, and found joy in her in so many ways, she longed to share this next great undertaking with her. Beauty was ready, and Tatianna hardly knew why she was protesting. 

So their conversation continued. Tatianna brought up some reason for restraint, reconsideration, and Beauty put aside every one. At long last Tatianna found herself again agreeing. 

That night, as the full moon began to rise and the hours of their mutual fertility began, they walked out to a moss and clover covered hillock, under a canopy of endless stars. 

There, under the cool, pure light of the moon, and a warmer lower light of candle lit lanterns surrounding them, they stood facing each other hand in hand. Mortal and fairy. Princess and Queen. Soul mates. Wives. 

“My Beloved,” said Tatianna gravely in ritual blessing, “I offer you my self to make with your self a being entirely new. As you have taken my hand and taken my heart, I beg you take this, too. By the purity of this moon and the strength of this land, by the tenderness of the gentle moving air, by all my powers and my life and my throne, I commit myself to its care.”

Beauty looked up exultantly into Tatianna’s eyes and simply said, “I accept.” 

Then they both smiled, happy in each other, and kissed. 

Soon standing was too great a task and they dropped to their knees on the soft knoll, still entwined in each other, their hands on each other, holding, caressing, carding through hair. 

Just in this Tatianna was able to drive Beauty beside herself, which was a pastime much beloved of the Queen of All Fae. When she slid one of her hands up Beauty’s thigh, under her gown, and toward a cunning task, it was not long before Beauty was unable to kiss any longer, having been driven to such distraction she could only stare sightlessly at the sky, her wife’s mouth upon her neck. 

“My Flower,” Beauty said, breathless, an endearment that always stirred the Queen hot. 

“Dear One,” replied the Queen possessively, and redoubled her efforts until Beauty’s pleasure rose to its peak, and then again. 

After the second time, Tatianna gentled her attention somewhat and just when Beauty had caught her breath Tatianna stood and drew her wife to stand with her. 

“No you don’t,” said Beauty.

“What?” said Tatianna, incredulously. 

“You mean to kneel and make me stand, when what you’ll do there will make my knees buckle.” She laughed, “too cruel.”

Tatianna considered, not liking to give up a plan once formulated, “What if I made you a swing of moonlight, so you may stand with no effort, your toes grazing the moss?”

Beauty rolled her eyes. “How about, instead, you make me entirely the weight of a feather, that I may float in any orientation?”

Tatianna grinned and obliged, holding her hands out palms up, and bidding Beauty to place hers on top palm down. Then, Tatianna lifted her hands, which lifted Beauty, until Beauty was floating a foot above the ground. 

Then, sliding her hands down Beauty’s sides, Tatianna slid down to her knees, then tugged Beauty until she was at just the right height, and then raised her gown and set to the task that was intended. 

“My dearest,” breathed Beauty, hot and heating further, “my beloved, my Flower, I—” Beauty writhed and found suddenly that having no purchase, no resistance was intolerable, “Give me you hand.”

“Of course, beloved.”

Tatianna raised her hand and Beauty took it to hold on and squeeze and brace herself with, until even that was not enough.

“I— ah— let me turn.”

Tatianna allowed Beauty to turn herself until she had rotated like the hand of a clock to 6 rather than noon, gaining another source of purchase against Tatianna’s thighs, which Tatianna obligingly spread from her kneeled position. The result was a situation satisfactory to both of them, in more ways than one. Thus they resumed.

Minutes passed, perhaps, before, in dragging Beauty closer and closer, and leaning herself further and further back in unthinking effort to accentuate the cant of her hips, Tatianna found her back hitting the moss and clover, now fully lying on the knoll, with her dear wife lightly upon her. She heard Beauty’s call of satisfaction at the new arrangement. 

And satisfactory it was, each delighting in the touch of their spouse, each feeding off the pleasure they were wringing from the other, to the point that both had brought each other their highest passions a number of times, when suddenly Tatianna rolled them over and continued her own movement gracefully until they faced each other head to head, Tatianna pressing Beauty into the soft green earth. 

“It,” she said, fairly out of breath, “is time.”

Beauty’s smile was bright as the sun, as ringing as the full strum of a harp. “I’m ready,” she said, and this time Tatianna made no contradictory reply.

Tatianna slid herself down Beauty’s beautiful body, now naked, until she lay on her belly on the green, her chin propped on her folded hands, Beauty’s thighs upon her shoulders, and one of her favorite views before her. 

In her ecstasy Tatianna had accumulated beads of sweat upon her face, and now she wiped her face with both hands. But as she did so, an onlooker might have seen not sweat being pushed aside, but the image of the Queen as a person, as if her human form were wet ink on glass, to push aside and reveal what was beneath. And what was revealed, that observer might suppose looked like a great plant, with stalks and leaves and thorns, and roots that went deep into the earth, drinking from the dark caverned waters, and a flower with petals the size of hands where her head had been, with golden glowing stamen.

But there was no observer. And when Beauty looked down she saw a glow in her beloved’s smile, for the tip of Tatianna’s tongue appeared to be giving off golden light. 

This time, when Tatianna set herself to making love, she held back at first, first using only her hands, pressing her forehead to the inner knee of her Beauty to hold off her own highest desire of tasting her lover’s desire once more.

Through the night there had been a hum in the air, of the night insects and the gentlest rustling of leaves from the faintest air currents, and besides that little else. Now, at last, that was torn by Beauty. Beauty was generally a quiet lover, and Tatianna generally loved giving her what she wanted the moment she wanted it, but what was happening now was a terrible denying. 

Tatianna was driving Beauty toward heights only to withdraw or reset her pace or in some other way frustrate the rhythm Beauty needed. It was slowly bringing the human undone, and the human was not taking it quietly. 

Before long she was gasping, yelling, in need and heat and madness. She was becoming more and more sensitive, until the slightest touches were driving her to screaming and writhing, at one point tearing the clover in frustration with a mad snarl. 

At last, Tatianna had to stop all her ministrations, in contact with her lover only to hold her down and hold her open, for the slightest further touch would surely bring her over. 

Then, as a breeze might carry pollen, Tatianna exhaled a dewey breath that seemed to glow as like the tip of her tongue. At the feeling of that warm breath Beauty screamed loudest of all, climaxing harder than ever that evening, perhaps than ever in her life. She could see nothing, she was helpless, she was entirely possessed.

Tatianna raised her head to look on the face of her lover, through the throws of her ecstasy, entirely open and bare, and Tatianna was happier than any moment of her long life. 

When Beauty’s shaking and tensing slowed, and she had caught her breath yet again, Tatianna deemed she had restrained herself enough, and finally put her glowing tongue where she most wanted it to be. 

Screaming pierced the night yet again, as with this heavy sensation, after being primed to sensations so light, Beauty was entirely overwhelmed and immediately went over again. 

This time, Tatianna did not stop. She continued working her tongue, her face, her fingers, her hands, bringing her Beauty to pleasure again and again, wave after wave. The pleasure she created was so great at one point she was carried over herself in its wake. Eventually, by her magic arts, she summoned phantom hands to allow her to touch where she could not reach- to caress up ribs and tug hair and press onto a tongue and clutch a breast, and through cresting wave after cresting wave, the glowing tip of Queen’s tongue did not stray from its housing, as pollen wafted in wave after wave, deeper and deeper. 

Hours later, yet before the sky started to lighten, the screaming waned into hoarse moaning, and then later still into two sets of ragged breathing, the wives now holding each other, head on shoulder, arms around waists. 

They stared at the sky and saw nothing. They had their ears open and heard nothing. They were entirely present and yet only aware of each other, consumed in love and sated bliss.

At long last Beauty uttered, hoarsely, “Well?”

Slowly, just as exhausted, Tatianna turned to look blearily at her beloved, at her tired and happy face, down her body, and with fae vision down still into her womb to see the light there, a new light, of a new spirit. 

Tears started falling from her eyes as she smiled in joy so great it hurt. “We have succeeded." Beauty moaned again to hear it, in joy. “And she’s the most beautiful spirit I’ve ever seen.”

**Author's Note:**

> strongly influenced by Angelina's face from maleficent.  
> I know the weaving analogy is incorrect but it sounded better, I’m here for the poetry don’t at me.


End file.
